


Kindling

by Seascribe



Category: due South
Genre: Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, One Night Stands, Pining, Porn, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seascribe/pseuds/Seascribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the people Janet is expecting to find on her doorstep, the Mountie from Chicago is not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/gifts).



Janet's not expecting the knock on the door. She's between jobs at the moment, taking some quiet time up here at the cabin with the kids, teaching them to do a little hunting and fishing, basic tracking. It's good for them, spending a little time in the same place, learning something useful, getting out in the wide open air. 

Except for Mullins coming round to check on the generator a couple of days ago, she hasn't seen anybody but the kids all week. There's no reason anybody should be knocking on the door now. Of course, they're not so far out from town that it should be making her hackles rise either. 

"Kids, why don't you go finish your dessert in your room and pick out a book for tonight." It's probably nothing, she's just being paranoid, but she didn't make it this far by being careless, so she detours by the gunsafe on her way to answer the door. 

Of all the people Janet is expecting to find on her doorstep, the Mountie from Chicago is not one of them. He's carrying a big canvas backpack with a bedroll strapped to the frame, and the wolf is sitting by his side, grinning redly up at Janet. 

"I'm sorry to drop in unannounced," Fraser says, rubbing his eyebrow. "But I was, well, I was in the neighbourhood." 

"In the neighbourhood?" Janet says skeptically. They've exchanged a handful of postcards, and she knows he's not in Chicago any more, but a cabin ten miles outside of Whitefish isn't exactly in the neighbourhood of anywhere.

"In a manner of speaking," Fraser says.

Janet doesn't ask how he got out here, or how he figured she'd be home, or any of the other questions of logistics that spring up in the back of her mind. He did get out here, and she was home, and she thinks probably that's just how life works for him.

"Well, come on in," Janet says. "Your wolf can come too." She calls for the kids to bring their plates out for washing. Fraser declines her offer of dinner, but accepts a cup of tea. The kids stampede through the kitchen, clashing their plates in the sink, and then cluster around the table, curious. 

"Are you going to help Mom catch a criminal?" 

"Can your wolf sleep in our room?" 

"Did you _walk_ here?"

"All right, kids, we're not playing twenty questions. Make sure those plates get washed, and go get ready for bed!" 

"You're pretty far from home," Janet says, when the kids and the wolf have taken their racket back into the bedroom. His last card had been a picture of the MacKenzie river, postmarked Norman Wells. "What brings you down this way?"

"The _Epilobium angustifolium_ colonies are in particularly fine bloom in this area," Fraser says. 

"Okay, sure, you don't want to tell me, you don't have to," Janet says. "Listen, I gotta go put the kids to bed." She halfway expects him to offer to help, and is relieved when he doesn't. The kids are worn out from a long day outside, and are down for the count pretty much as soon as she opens the book. 

Fraser's still sitting at the kitchen table, staring into the bottom of his empty mug. Janet tops the kettle up and puts it back on the hob.

"You're welcome to stay the night," she says. Better to offer now so it doesn't sound like some kind of desperate plea, like it will later. 

"Thank you kindly," Fraser says. "You have a wonderful set-up here. Peaceful." 

"Just wait til the kids are getting you up at sunrise tomorrow," Janet says.

"I doubt I'll mind too much," Fraser says with a small smile. "Dief might be another story." 

The kettle starts to sigh, rising into a whistle, and Janet pours them both fresh mugs of tea to cover the awkward silence that she doesn't know how to fill. Fraser's just looking at her, sort of wistful. Janet's not fool enough to think that he came all the way out here just to chase whatever it was that sparked between them in Chicago, but it's definitely flaring up again. This time, Janet thinks, it's going to catch, burning up between them like kindling. Once, maybe she'd hoped there'd be more to it, a careful-laid fire that would burn slow and hot and keep her warm even when it sank down to embers. But she has a feeling that isn't how Fraser works--that if the kindling-fire doesn't burn itself out, fast, it catches everything it can reach and turns into a forest fire. 

Janet doesn't think she's forest fire material--and wouldn't want to be, not really--but the other, something fast and bright and simple, well, if he's offering, that doesn't sound too bad. 

And he's definitely offering. Janet puts the kettle back down on the stove and accepts. 

They're in the doorway to her bedroom when Fraser stops kissing her, and for a second Janet thinks he's changed his mind. 

"I'm going to Chicago," Fraser says, pressing his forehead against her temple. "I didn't want to mislead you. This isn't--I can't--" 

"I'm not asking you to," Janet says, pulling him another step into the room and nudging the door gently closed. "Got someone waiting for you there?"

"No," Fraser says, then, "I don't know." 

"That's a scary position to be in," Janet murmurs. Fraser nods and ducks his head, kissing her deep and sloppy, sliding his big warm hands up beneath the hem of her shirt. He clearly doesn't want to talk any more about it. 

Janet lets him draw her shirt off and tugs him back towards the bed. There's a packet of condoms in the bedside drawer, but Fraser doesn't seem in any hurry to get to that part of the show. He mouths at her left breast through the thin cotton of her bra, then blows on the damp fabric, making her shiver. 

Janet fumbles with the clasps and strips the bra out of the way, so that Fraser can close his teeth around the tightness of her nipple, worrying it gently, until Janet growls at him and presses her palm against the seam of her jeans, aching for more touch.

Fraser puts his hand over hers, waiting for permission, and Janet says, "Fuck, yes, your fingers," and Fraser's undone the buttons on her jeans and is drawing them down her thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He stretches out over her, and Janet can feel his hard-on pressing against her thigh through his jeans. He's got her right nipple between his teeth now, and his thumb on her clit through her panties, and she's worming her hands beneath him to get at the buttons on his jeans, trying to push them down, trying to get her hands on him and give as good as she's getting. 

The elastic of his boxers catches on his erection, and his teeth on her tighten involuntarily, making pain zing wildly behind her eyes. 

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbles, shifting his weight so he can grab her hand. He licks and kisses the lingering ache away, til she only feels it as an echo that seems directly wired to his thumb on her clit. She'd seen him, in Chicago, the way he put his mouth on everything, and she isn't surprised when, after a while, he begins to work his way down her belly, taking his time, keeping up that same steady rhythm with his thumb. 

Fraser isn't shy about this at all, spreading her open and licking at her clit and somehow managing to make it as straightforward and _sweet_ as his kisses had been earlier. He takes his time, until her stomach and thighs are trembling, her fingers twitching spasmodically in his hair. Orgasm unfurls through her, winding outwards in slow, spine-shuddering waves that make her toes curl.

"Didn't figure you for such a tease," she sighs, petting his hair. Fraser noses at the crease of her thigh, and she can feel his tiny, smug smile. He kisses his way back up her belly to her mouth, almost lazily, except for the way he falters when his cock brushes against her hip. 

"Condoms in the drawer," Janet offers, arching a little to rub against him. Fraser lets out a bitten-off groan, reaching over her to yank the drawer open. "Shhh," Janet says, and the wide-eyed look Fraser gives her as he remembers the kids asleep in the other room is almost comical. 

He eases into her, in a slow, uneven glide that must be torture for him, after waiting so long, and Janet rocks up to meet him. She's not planning on coming again, but she likes the sensation of being full like this, and Fraser's heavy, warm weight above her feels good. 

"Go on," she says, and he finally does, driving into her in deep, smooth strokes. His eyes are closed, his face slack with pleasure, and Janet lets herself drift on the rhythm and pleasant sensation of his movement. 

He speeds up as he gets close and groans, "I'm--do you need--?"

Janet turns her head to kiss his wrist, and says, "I'm fine. Let go." 

Fraser does. For just a heartbeat, he opens his eyes, and Janet sees then that this thing between them could flame up into a forest fire after all, if they aren't careful. But afterwards, when Fraser reaches awkwardly for his jeans, fully prepared to go sleep on the couch, Janet puts out a hand to stop him. 

"You can sleep here, if you want," she says. Dangerous, maybe, with him so scared, and both of them lonely, and the sparks of the kindling-fire between them still glowing a little, but Janet doesn't care. They can have this. They both deserve this much.

Fraser doesn't say anything, just puts his arms around her and holds on tight, his turn to take what she's offering. 

In the morning, Janet wakes up alone. There's no note, just sheets that still smell faintly of Fraser and a full pot of coffee in the kitchen. Janet hopes Fraser finds what he's looking for in Chicago. And if not, well, he knows where to find her.


End file.
